


for all of the perfect things i doubt (i'll be good, i'll be good)

by AceMoppet



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Agender Aziraphale (Good Omens), Angst, Aziraphale Angst (Good Omens), Aziraphale Whump (Good Omens), Character Study, Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt No Comfort, Other, Repression, crowley is mad pissed and honestly? same, heaven is a bag of dicks, prolly not lol, this could be read as either romantic or platonic read however you want, will I ever get over how heaven treats aziraphale?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21766303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceMoppet/pseuds/AceMoppet
Summary: Aziraphale does not cry.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 135





	for all of the perfect things i doubt (i'll be good, i'll be good)

**Author's Note:**

> Whaddup y'all I have a bio final tomorrow but fuck it I have Feelings about Aziraphale and stoicism.

Aziraphale does not cry.

They’ve done many things, while serving on Earth. Some they enjoyed, like eating. Some they could do without, like sleeping. And some they’ve only tried once, but thereafter…  _ heavily disliked (no Crowley, they would not say “hated”: they’re an angel! They can’t hate!),  _ like riding a horse.

And yet out of all the wonderful, bizarre, and wonderfully bizarre things humans did… Aziraphale has never cried. Not even once.

Crying is… unseemly. For one, most humans cry when they are sad, missing something integral, souls keening at the loss. But why would an angel be sad? They are continuously in Her presence, Her Grace carved in their heart of stars, written into the fabric they were all woven out of. Never mind that She never speaks again to Aziraphale, never mind that they witness the mourning wails and the sickly moans and quiet deaths of the very humans they were meant to protect, over and over and over. Never mind that the rest of the Host looks at them with derision, scorn, sometimes even  _ disgust.  _

Aziraphale does not cry.

It’s for the better, really, they say to themself, as they watch the years go by. As they watch the skies turn dark, the ground disappear beneath dirty, swirling water. As they watch the Plagues sweep across Egypt, darkness and sickness and despair leading the tortured souls of their captives straight to Death’s doors. 

As they watch the Son of God get trussed up like a Christmas turkey.

There is a painful lump in Aziraphale’s throat and a fiery sting behind their eyes, but they do not cry.

Not when the crowd jeers as the Son of God stumbles and almost loses his balance. Not when the guards drag him none-too-gently the last of the way up the hill. Not when they hammer a nail through his palms even as he pleads for mercy- not for himself, but for his brothers and sisters. 

No, Aziraphale does not cry. But Cra- _ Crowley- _ does.

“Why did he have to die?” she sobs, face red and tortured and  _ angry _ . “He shouldn’t have had to- we should have done something-”

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale says, tamping down the urge to reach out and take Crowley into their arms like they’d done with some of the other women. “Crowley, there was nothing that could be done- it’s ineffa-”

_ “Don’t,”  _ Crowley spits out, hair whipping in her face with the force of her turn. She spits out a fiery lock that had made its way inside her mouth. “Don’t you fucking  _ dare.” _

_ Language,  _ Aziraphale thinks absently, but cannot get out, frozen as they are by Crowley’s glare. She stares at them, then, tears carving a path down her face, sulfurous eyes sharp and wild with anger. Then she laughs, a clap of thunder so bitter it makes Aziraphale want to cover their ears and hide.

“You know,” she says lightly, like the smell of ozone in the air, “I thought angels were supposed to love all of God’s creations. And you’re an angel, aren’t you?”

With a sinking feeling in their stomach, Aziraphale nods.

Crowley chuckles. “Well then,  _ angel,”  _ she says, no,  _ hisses,  _ before stepping up to them and yanking on their robes. “Why aren’t you  _ grieving?” _

Struck dumb, Aziraphale can only look at her as she continues. “You see these humans? They exude love, practically ooze it through their eyes and exclaim it through their wails. So why aren’t  _ you?” _

Eternities tick by, measured by the slow  _ drip-drip-drip  _ of Crowley’s tears and the unsettlingly fast beat of Aziraphale’s heart. But no matter what, Aziraphale can’t answer. Words and thoughts congeal into the lump in their throat until it’s all they can do to hold it back.

Crowley snarls and flings them backwards. Caught off-guard, Aziraphale stumbles back into a wall and can’t suppress a whimper of pain when an upturned stone hits them straight in the spine. Crowley’s face fills with regret, and for a split-second, it seems like she might apologize.

But the moment passes, and she huffs, turning away. “I thought you were different,” she mutters, fixing her hood. “But you’re just another one of  _ them.” _

And then she walks away, leaving behind a panting Aziraphale with shaky legs and faith. Desperately, they look up, searching the sky for the eyes of their Mother.

“This is all part of your Plan, isn’t it?” Aziraphale says, begging for hope.  _ “Please,  _ it must be so!”

But the heavens only whistle with the sound of a harsh wind, and nothing more.

Aziraphale turns away, nails digging into palms, teeth biting into cheek, scream clawing at their throat. They walk, quick and loud, footsteps barely covering up their ragged breathing. All around, they see the tears Crowley saw, hear the wails Crowley heard. And through it all, they feel the love, devastated and pained, but oh-so  _ free. _

They cry, these humans. They cry, and they cry, and they cry.

But not Aziraphale. Aziraphale is not a human, nor a peculiarly empathetic demon. 

Aziraphale does not cry.

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from [ I'll Be Good](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=POqEVwROEQs) by Jaymes Young


End file.
